‘‘You can pull in at this convenience store ahead and we can stock up,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘You don’t want to find a restaurant?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Not really. Do you? I’d rather just get some snacks and find a place to stay.’’
Diane filled up the gas tank while Kingsley went in for food. When the tank was full she moved the vehicle to the side of the store and went in to pay. Kingsley had two bags full of food—junk food, from the glimpse she caught of the contents of one of his bags.
‘‘I got us some of those dip dogs,’’ he said.
‘‘Some what?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Corn dogs, you may call them,’’ he said, grinning as he went out the door.
There were few people in the small store, so Diane was able to pay quickly and grab a Coke and a bag of peanuts. She paid for the gas and snacks and slipped the peanuts in her pocket.
She walked out to the SUV and fingered the UNLOCK button on the key chain. A bottle of water rolled from behind the SUV and bumped into her foot. She turned to look and everything went black.
Chapter 48
Diane heard a groan coming through the pain and fog in her head.
‘‘What the hell?’’ It was Kingsley.
She opened her eyes and tried to move. Her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were tied together. She stayed still a moment and breathed deeply, assessing her situation.
They were in the rear compartment of a minivan with its backseats stripped out. It was new by the look of it. The windows were dark but she could see out the front. It was still daylight. The driver was young. She could see his cheek and his blond hair. The kid. The one who drugged them at the restaurant and the one who was renting an apartment in her building. It had to be him.
She looked at Kingsley. He was equally bound and apparently equally dazed. Their eyes met and Diane motioned with hers for him to look at the driver.
Kingsley glanced over his shoulder at the kid and looked back at Diane.
‘‘Is he...?Kingsley whispered.
Diane nodded. ‘‘Bobby Banks? I think so.’’ ‘‘Hey, kid,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘Have you been following us? You’re really good. I didn’t see you and I’m pretty good at spotting a tail.’’
‘‘Just keep quiet,’’ the kid said.
‘‘Where are we going?’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘Don’t make me mad,’’ he said.
While they spoke, Diane tugged at the ropes that held her. Kingsley was doing the same. They were tight but Diane thought if she tried she could bring her arms down and around her butt and legs to get her hands in front of her. As quietly as she could, she wiggled and maneuvered until her hands were in front where she could reach the rope with her teeth.
Kingsley was trying to do the same but with less success. He wasn’t quite as flexible or as slim as Diane. She was almost loose when the van stopped abruptly. The kid looked around, then grabbed something beside his seat and rushed back. Kingsley tripped him with his feet and the kid went flying on top of him.
‘‘You bastard,’’ the kid screamed. He had a temper.
Diane reached around to grab his neck, trying to pull him off. Suddenly there was a loud pop, and a cry came from Kingsley.
Diane pulled at the kid. He whipped around and punched her hard on the side of her head.
‘‘See what you made me do?’’
Diane tried to shake the stars out of her head. She looked over at Kingsley and called to him. She could see blood on his shirt inside his coat. He was shot somewhere in the upper left chest, near the shoulder. She glanced at the gun in the kid’s hand. It wasn’t Kingsley’s gun, which the kid surely had taken from him. It was a small caliber; that was good. With Kingsley’s gun the wound would have been so much worse.
‘‘I need to see about him,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Well, see about him. You did this. I didn’t.’’ He went back up to the front. ‘‘I’m watching you. I can see you in the mirror. If you try anything funny again, I’ll pop you,’’ he said. He made the motion of shooting her with the gun in his hand before he turned around and put the van in gear and stepped on the gas.
Suddenly the van rocked back and forth. Diane could see they were driving onto the back of a ferry. They were going to cross the water. Great. Kingsley was shot and now they were really cut off.
‘‘I have to drive the ferry, but I can see you. If you try to move out of the van, I’ll pop you good. Bambam- bam.’’
He hadn’t retied Diane’s hands behind her. She was grateful for that. He felt cocky and secure because he had shot someone, she thought. Maybe that was good.
The van rocked again but more gently as the ferry started out over the water. Her head throbbed and she felt sick.
Her hands were still tied, but with them in front she could at least look after Kingsley. She squirmed her way to him, bound as she was, and opened his coat and shirt to look at the wound. It was bleeding freely.
